


Thanksgiving at the Kents

by cylobaby27



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Food, Football, Gen, Horses, I take canon and twist and smash it until its unrecognizable, JLA cartoon Diana, JLA cartoon Superman, Light brooding, Thanksgiving, classic fanon Batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 05:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cylobaby27/pseuds/cylobaby27
Summary: Clark convinces Diana to come to the farm for Thanksgiving, and Diana finally gets the chance to meet Bruce's kids.There are far more of them than she had expected.





	Thanksgiving at the Kents

**Author's Note:**

> For this story, I’m smashing together early JLA cartoons with Batfamily fanon, because there is no canon in the Gotham of my mind. (Or, to be frank, in canon itself.) The Batfam is mostly on good terms, including Jason. Diana is living in Paris alone when she’s not doing superhero things. Both Kent parents are still alive, but there’s no Kara or Superboys. Diana and Bruce have suffered from mutual UST for years, but they haven’t spent much time together without masks. And with that quick-and-dirty primer—onward!

The view from the Watchtower never got old.

Diana leaned against the railing and looked down at the planet below. It was a quiet day, one of the first they’d had in a long while. There had been a string of disasters, both natural and malicious, and the team had been in high demand. Even Diana’s endurance had been tested, and she felt the ache of it in her bones.

When Flash had relieved her on watch, she could have headed back planetside, but she’d found herself wandering the station instead. Life in the Watchtower felt suspended from the bustle below. Perhaps she could delay the return for a little more time.

There was a breeze as someone with super-speed zipped into place beside her. With secret identities in the way, most of her teammates were restrained on Earth, but on the station they didn’t have to maintain human appearances.

“Hello, Superman,” she greeted, not looking up.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Clark asked, knowing what she was looking at without needing to ask. “I wish everyone had the chance to see it from this angle.”

“Maybe men would learn to be a bit more careful with it, if they could,” Diana said.

“If that were true, I’d carry each of them up here myself,” he said.

“Don’t say that to Batman. He doesn’t need another excuse to practice his speech about orbital security.”

“Or he’d end up having Wayne Industries take over the commercial space flight industry.”

“It’s impressive that Bruce Wayne doesn’t get mistaken for a supervillain more often,” Diana pointed out.

“It happens. Did you know that Flash actually asked me about it a few months ago? He thought there might be a tie between Luthor and Wayne, but he didn’t want to interfere in Gotham at the risk of Batman ripping his head off.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him to take the issue to Batman if he wanted it handled.”

She laughed. “I’m sure that went over well.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look more betrayed. He likes me to play mediator between them. I try to tell him Batman isn’t as scary as he pretends, but Flash thinks I’m delusional.”

“Batman doesn’t do anything to make Flash _less_ intimidated,” Diane pointed out. “Do you think he’ll ever tell the rest of the team his secret identity?” Diana had only just been let in on the secret in the last year, and it had been an unavoidable circumstance. She wondered, sometimes, how long it would have taken if the choice had stayed in Bruce’s hands. Some days, she thought he trusted her more than almost anyone else. Others, it seemed as though he would keep as many barriers between them as possible.

“Not any time soon. You know how much he likes his privacy. And the air of mystery.”

“It’s a good look,” she admitted with a shrug.

“Speaking of Batman… I wanted to ask you what your plans are next week.”

“This week? Nothing apart from my scheduled shifts. Why?”

“I know you’ve been spending a lot of your time in Paris, but there’s a pretty big American holiday coming up.”

Diana had to rack her brain for a moment. Halloween had just ended—she’d found many photos of beautiful young children wearing her costume that night—and she knew there was still some time before Christmas. “Thanksgiving?” she guessed.

Clark nodded.

“I believe I heard something about the holiday being one to celebrate the colonization of the Americas by white Europeans,” Diana said. “You celebrate this?”

Clark rubbed the back of his head. “Not like that, Diana,” he said. “It has a complicated history, to be sure. But most Americans just use it as a time to come together as a family and gorge themselves on traditional food. Maybe play some yard football. It’s supposed to be a social holiday. My mom wanted me to ask you to come down to the farm for it this year.”

“You said it was for family.” As closed as Bruce was about his personal life, Clark was the opposite. Once Diana had proven herself a loyal warrior and friend, he had begun telling her stories about his parents in Kansas. He seemed to recognize that Diana missed her own family, and let her into small, funny stories about his so that she could feel some connection. She had never been down to meet them—that had always seemed like a step too far, though he’d invited her before. He deserved a space away from Superman, and Diana, no matter what else she was, would always be Wonder Woman first.

“We’re expanding it a bit this year. A lot, a bit,” he said. He leaned closer, though he would have been able to detect an eavesdropper long before they got in listening range. “Batman is coming.”

She turned to him, surprised. “Really? What about all of his…” Sidekicks? Children? She wasn’t sure which term to use. She’d only met Nightwing of the lot, though from the reports and rumors she thought there were far more tucked in the shadows. “I thought he stayed in Gotham with them.”

“They’re coming too.”

Diana was torn between horror and delight. “Is Alfred all right?” Diana asked. She had met him once. She didn’t imagine he would give up managing a family holiday easily.

“He’ll be there too,” Clark said. “That’s how the whole thing started—he finally met Mom, and they joined forces. He apparently thought the family needed a reason to get out of Gotham, and my mom wouldn’t take no for an answer. Thanksgiving is about family, and she loves when she has the excuse to make a feast for more than just me and Dad. What do you say? Do you want to help us balance the child-adult ratio?”

“Your mother approved of this invitation?”

“Of course,” Clark shrugged. “You know she’s been trying to meet you for years. She’ll be upset if she finds out you were alone for the holiday.”

“It’s not a holiday I celebrate,” she reminded him, but then she nodded. “I will come.”

“I should have known the best way to get you to agree was to get Batman in line first.”

Diana frowned at him. “You’re my friend as well, Clark.”

He gave her an easy smile. “I know that. I just needed your curiosity to outweigh your sense of politeness.”

“Have you told Batman I’m coming?”

“Do we really need to _tell_ Batman anything? Doesn’t he know everything before anyone’s even made the decision?”

“Is that a no?”

“I cleared it with him,” Clark assured her. “Not that I have to—it’s my house—but I know how he is about his kids. I wouldn’t spring someone on him when he already has the whole flock out of his comfort zone.”

“Someone needs to talk to him about the fact his ‘comfort zone’ is a city like Gotham,” Diana said, but she was relieved. She’d made a habit of poking at Bruce’s walls, but she wouldn’t compromise his privacy. “I should invite the children to Paris so they can see what real living is like. There’s a _pain au chocolat_ on _rue du Bac_ that would convert even the hardest heart.”

Clark laughed. “I think this is exactly why Bruce doesn’t usually let the kids talk to the rest of us,” he pointed out. “So, you’ll come?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Diana said.

 

#

 

In deference to the Kents’ security, Diana kept the invisible jet on stealth mode as she landed it in an empty field behind the farm. The grass below wavered slightly from the rush of air, but the jet wouldn’t leave any unrepairable damage. She climbed from the cockpit in civilian clothes that mimicked what she had seen Clark wear before—a blue plaid shirt tucked into skinny jeans, along with a brown leather jacket. She had a duffle bag on her shoulder, though she’d assured Clark that she didn’t need to stay the night. He had just shrugged and cited tradition.

Though it would have seemed to most mortals that she had appeared from nowhere, Diana’s arrival had not gone unnoticed. The back door opened before she could loop to the front, and a handsome young man with bright blue eyes leaned out. “Diana!” he called, beckoning her in. “Clark said he heard you land.”

“Nightwing,” she greeted, trotting up the steps and entering a small living room. It was quaint and cozy, decorated with soft fabrics and dark wood. The house smelled heavily of food: meats, vegetables, breads, and something sweet. She inhaled deeply, smiling slightly. She had been unsure what to expect from Clark’s childhood home, but this sense of _heartiness_ fit well.

“Call me Dick,” Nightwing said. “I was helping Clark and Ma Kent in the kitchen. He asked me to show you in and then take you on the tour.”

“They don’t need your help any longer?” Diana asked.

“I was just keeping busy,” he said. “Probably bothering Ma Kent more than anything. Clark wasn’t helping at all—he was sitting at the table chatting.”

“Don’t you know it’s rude to talk about a man in his own house?” Clark asked just as they entered the kitchen. True to Dick’s statement, he was sitting at the table with just a glass of tea in front of him. “Hi, Diana,” he added, standing up to pull her into a hug. Their hugs tended to be the kind that would have crushed a mortal stuck in between, but they were one of Diana’s favorite things. “Diana, this is my ma. Ma, Diana.”

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Kent,” Diana said, holding out a hand to the petite woman by the sink. She had gray hair pulled back in a bun, and a dusting of flour on the sleeve of her shirt.

Martha Kent ignored the hand and embraced Diana in a hug as well. Despite her age and stature, her grip was admirably firm. Diana was delicate in return, just in case. “Thank _you_ for coming,” she said. “I’ve been hearing all about you for years. It was time to finally meet you. And call me Martha. Or Ma Kent, if you’re like the rest of these hooligans.”

“I read on the internet that a gift was appropriate,” Diana said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a bottle of red wine. “I hope you like chianti.”  
“All wine is good wine,” Martha said with a conspiratorial smile. “Dick, would you mind taking Diana on the tour? She’ll be in the room with Cass and Stephanie.” She winked at Diana. “The boys are all stuck together, but I wanted to make sure the girls had their own space.”

“A noble cause,” Diana said, but her smile felt weak.

A family holiday, and Diana was the only one here alone. Before she had learned Bruce’s secret identity, she’d thought they were of a piece; alone in the world. That had been entirely untrue—a fact that was underlined Dick led her by a front-facing window and she spotted a riot of teenagers in the front yard. The three slender youths were walking together, jostling each other as they followed a chicken across the grass.

Diana paused and peered out from behind the muted curtain. “Is that all of them?” she asked.

“Is that not enough for you?” Dick laughed. He looked out beside her. “That’s Tim, Cass, and Steph. Damian and Jason are…somewhere. Probably should figure that out. Babs is back home with her dad.”

“And Bruce?”

“Out back with Alfred and Pa Kent. There was some excuse about showing Alfred the barn, but I think he just wanted to get away for a minute. Ma Kent likes to tease B, and the rest of us love it. It drives him crazy.”

“Bruce could use more teasing,” Diana agreed.

Dick pointed out the dining room, which was currently hosting a Frankenstein series of mismatched tables to create a surface long enough for them all to sit at, and then took her upstairs. “Me and Jason are sleeping on the couch and living room floor downstairs,” he said. “Damian and Tim are on the floor Clark’s old room, and Alfred’s taking the bed. Bruce is crashing with Clark in the biggest guest room, which is apparently nicer.” He shook his head. “We tried to make that into teasing fodder, but apparently once you’ve cuddled a few times on alien planets hiding from cannibals, you lose all shame about sleeping in the same bed with someone.”

“That’s true,” Diana said. For an instant, she wondered if their bed was big enough for her to squeeze into as well.

“Here’s the room for you and the girls. It’s technically a study, but we brought some air mattresses from the Manor,” Dick said, opening a final door. The room was tiny, and the three plush air mattresses—already made—barely fit on the floor. Two had been claimed with bags already, leaving the one closest to the door open.

Presumably, raised by Batman, the girls wanted quick access to the window. Diana, who would happily hold the line at the door if needed, or bust through one of the weak adjoining walls, didn’t mind. She set her bag on the bed and nodded.

“Is this okay? I think Ma Kent is a little embarrassed she doesn’t have more room,” Dick told her quietly, glancing behind his shoulder to make sure the woman in question wasn’t there.

“This is plenty,” Diana said. “I could do far worse than sharing a lovely room with two of Batman’s companions.”

“It’s crazy that you haven’t met them yet,” Dick said. “Everyone’s pretty excited. We’ve all heard so much about you.”

“Not from Bruce, surely,” Diana said.

“Well, not just Bruce. They watch the news too. But Bruce talks about you a lot,” Dick said. “You’re one of the best trained warriors on the planet. We’ve all studied your fighting style.” He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “That was super creepy to admit, wasn’t it?”

“No, it’s flattering,” Diana reassured him.

“I’ll let you unpack,” Dick said. “Dinner won’t be ready until six, so Ma Kent said she’d put out sandwiches around one—so just a few more minutes. She’s used to Clark’s metabolism, so she figured a house full of vigilantes wouldn’t be able to survive on just dinner. Honestly, it’s amazing she ever kept the pantries full. Alfred has a grocery service come three times a week back at the Manor. Anyway, I’ll see you later!”

“Until then,” Diana said, nodding.

 

#

 

There was not much need to unpack. There was no closet or bathroom, if she had had the need to remove her sparse belongings from her bag. Instead, Diana used the moment alone to think.

It was flattering that Batman’s sidekicks had studied her work in their training. That Batman had compiled footage of her fighting styles enough for form a course from it was less so. How much of that had been from admiration…and how much was searching for a weakness? As much as she and Bruce trusted each other, she knew he loathed to leave any variables unconsidered. Did he have a kryptonite ring to use against her as well?

Would she know until it was too late?

She mentally shook her head. If Batman was trying to take her out, it would likely be for a good reason. If her mind was compromised, it was reassuring that there might be someone out there with the knowledge and will to do what needed to be done. Clark, despite his strength, would balk at the idea. Batman was a true warrior—he understood necessity.

She thought, at least, she could trust him to act only if there were no other options. Bruce had never been the one to take an easy way out.

The door opened and two girls tumbled into the room, laughing. One of them, a lithe girl of Asian descent, quieted when she spotted Diana, but the other, a blonde, charged forward, still smiling. “Diana! I’m Stephanie. It’s so good to meet you! Sorry for barging in. I wanted to change shoes, and I dragged Cass up with me.”

She held out a hand to shake, while also holding up one foot so Diana could see her Converse.

“Bruce told me to bring real boots, but I didn’t believe I’d need them, you know? But you’d be amazed by how much mud is out there, and I like these shoes.”

Though they were clearly old, with graying laces, the purple Converse were in loving repair.

Diana took the offered hand, and was surprised by the strength of the girl’s grip. “Hello, Stephanie,” she said. She turned to the other girl, who hadn’t gotten a word in yet. “Hello, Cass.”

Cass nodded. She didn’t offer her hand, and Diana didn’t press her for it. She’d spent enough time with Batman to recognize someone who was wary of attention.

Instead, she looked back at Stephanie. “Have you never been to a farm before? They tend to be muddy.”

“Not many farms in inner Gotham,” Stephanie said cheerfully. “Have you? Your outfit is a little fashion-farmer.”

Cass frowned at the other girl.

Diana looked down at her clothes, amused rather than offended. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean they look like something someone would wear on a farm, but they look brand new,” Stephanie said.

“My more worn clothes didn’t feel appropriate for a holiday. My research told me that I should dress respectfully for this day. Besides, I haven’t had an excuse to go to a farm recently,” Diana said. “Especially not outside my uniform. I’ve had to hide in my share of barns and pig pens over the years. I’m glad to be here on an occasion when I likely won’t be called to roll in the mud.”

“I guess that depends on if you join us for football later,” Stephanie said. “Bruce said we might be able to convince you to play.”

“Football?”

“We wanted to put together a game before dinner,” she said. “It’s cold, but we’ll be fine if we’re moving. The Kents have a nice big yard, and I’ll never pass up the excuse to full-body tackle Tim into the mud.”

“I heard that,” a boy said from the doorway. “I was checking to see if you’d gotten lost on your way to get your boots. Hi, Diana. I’m Tim. Red Robin. The girls already invited you to the football match?”

“They did,” Diana confirmed.

“Great. We’d all love to see you in action,” Tim said. He hesitated. “You know about football, right?”

“Shit, I didn’t even think about that,” Stephanie said.

Diana laughed. “We didn’t have the sport on Themiscyra, no, but I have encountered it before. I went with Hawkgirl and Green Lantern last year to a game.”

“What was that like?” Tim asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Delightful. It was Green Lantern’s home team, and he wanted company for their game against their sworn rivals. I was curious to experience it—and Hawkgirl enjoys violent sport. I think she was disappointed in this game, but I enjoyed it. I ate four pretzels, and someone offered to paint my face blue.”

“I wish I could have seen that,” Tim said. “Our version won’t be as…professional.”

Diana waved her hand. “I would imagine not, but I would be honored to play with you.”

“Great,” Stephanie said. She had changed shoes while they were talking, and bounded forward to loop her arm into Tim’s. “We’ll see you later, Diana!”

 

#

 

Diana followed the trio downstairs a few minutes later, and returned to the kitchen. The promised sandwiches were stacked on the table, and the food had lured in more people. Clark was still in his seat at the table with Dick while Martha cooked, but they’d been joined by Bruce and two older men.  
“Have none of these men offered to help with the cooking, Martha?” Diana asked as she entered the room.

Martha laughed. “Don’t go blaming them, Diana. I have my system, and anyone else would mess it up.”

“She’s been quite stubborn,” said a man with a crisp British accent—Alfred.

“You can be sure that I’ll be making everyone help with the cleanup,” Martha continued. “Grab a sandwich. There’s ham and veggie.”

Diana took the vegetable one, which seemed simply layered with tomato, lettuce, and cheese.

“Are you a vegetarian too, Diana? Damian is as well. I had to rethink some of the dishes tonight, but I wanted to make sure he ended up as full as everyone else. Where is that boy? I haven’t seen him all day.”

“He’ll be fine,” Bruce reassured her. He glanced up at Diana. He was wearing a black turtleneck, and looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. Normally when she met him as Bruce Wayne, he was at a gala or business meeting, clad in an expensive suit and grinning like a well-paid actor. Here, his expression was the same neutral he wore on a quiet day in the Watchtower, when there was no one to perform for. Considering the crowd packed into the kitchen, she had expected to find him lurking in a shadowed corner, but he seemed comfortable here. “Hello, Diana. I’m glad you made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she told him.

“Have you met any of the kids yet?” Bruce asked.

“Cass, Stephanie, and Tim,” Diana listed, and then nodded at Dick. “And Dick, of course.”

“Saving the best for last, then,” Dick said with a cackle.

Diana raised her eyebrows, and Bruce shook his head. “I’m not getting into that.”

“Don’t be mean,” Martha said. “Damian and Jason are both lovely boys.”

Dick and—to Diana’s surprise—Clark both snorted. When he saw her gaze, Clark shrugged. “They’ve both tried to stab or shoot me at least once.”

“So has Bruce,” Diana said, waving a hand.

“Our standards are so fucked up,” Dick said with a laugh.

Alfred cleared his throat and looked at Dick with one eyebrow raised eloquently.

“Sorry,” Dick said. His apologetic grin had undoubtedly gotten him out of much more uncomfortable situations. Diana wondered if Bruce Wayne had taught him that—it seemed much more genuine on Dick.

Diana leaned against the wall and chatted with the group for an hour, making her way through three more sandwiches as she did.

Bruce’s calm demeanor never faltered, even when they overheard some of his children shouting from the front yard. Alfred quickly was becoming one of Diana’s favorite humans—he had a dry sense of humor that had clearly influenced Bruce, but he weaponized it for good. It was delightful seeing Dick and Bruce cave immediately under the slightest censure from the older man.

Clark, too, seemed more relaxed and happy than usual. Diana caught him several times looking around at the small group and smiling to himself. She regretted not taking up his invitations to visit earlier—it was clear that he enjoyed having his friends and family in the same room. He seemed proud to be able to bring his two worlds together.

Diana suddenly desperately wished that she could bring Bruce and Clark to meet her mother and the other Amazons. She would never be able to share her family with her friends as Clark did. In choosing her exile in the world of men, she had lost that chance forever.

During her research, Diana had learned that mortals often felt nostalgic during the holidays. Was this what they meant? She tried to focus back onto the quiet conversation, but found herself distracted and antsy.

She caught Bruce’s gaze—her shifting had drawn his attention. She gave him a half-smile and nod, and then slipped out of the room. He would know what she meant; he’d caught her discomfort, but she didn’t want the attention. Clark might have pursued her to be sure, but Bruce would understand.

Instead of following the voices to Batman’s sidekicks still doing something both raucous and fun in the front yard, Diana slipped out the back. When she’d landed the jet, she’d noticed a barn behind the house, and a smell in the air she was sure she recognized…

She pushed open the barn door and beamed. In addition to storing a tractor and other gear, there were two horses in stalls. Nearly jogging, Diana went to the first one and held out her hand. “Hello, there,” she greeted. “My goodness, you’re lovely.”

The horse, a sturdy bay, snuffed her hand, ears perked. It was well-cared for, though slightly dusty along its hindquarters. It nosed at her palm and looked at her curiously.

“My apologies—I didn’t think to bring any food.”

“I have some extra apples.”

Diana jumped, startled, and then peered over the door into the other stable. There was a boy leaning against the wall beside a paint mare, just out of sight of the front doors. Of the children she’d met so far today, he was by far the youngest. He resembled Bruce to an almost uncanny degree, despite the Middle Eastern tan of his skin. Bright blue eyes were shadowed by a heavy brow, and he didn’t bother to smile in greeting. He was bundled up even more than everyone else, wearing a thick parka and a hat with flaps that covered his ears. From the size, the hat had been borrowed from Jonathan.

He held out two apples from a bag sitting by his feet. The apples, small and misshapen, looked locally grown. Perhaps the Kents had trees somewhere on the property.

The mare with him seemed comfortable with his company, watching him and his apples closely. Diana remembered being close to his age and enjoying the thrill of a creature’s trust.

“Thank you,” Diana said solemnly.

“I was going to go over to him next, but since you’ve already barged in, you can make sure he doesn’t feel neglected,” the boy said.

“Of course,” Diana said. She took the apples back to the bay, who had watched the exchange closely. She bit into one of the apples to tear off a large chunk, and then offered it to the horse, who accepted enthusiastically. “You must be Damian,” she continued to the boy.

“And you’re Wonder Woman,” the boy said. “It is not a difficult puzzle to solve. There are limited people at the farm today.”

“Do you know the horses’ names? Where I’m from, a steed’s name is core to its very being. It feels rude not to introduce myself to this noble beast.”

“He’s Brooks. This is Dunn,” Damian said.

“She’s not a dun,” Diana pointed out.

Damian snorted. “I know. I said the same thing. Apparently it’s a band reference. Superman was a fan in his youth. Uncreative. Dick told me that Brooks and Dunn were both men, making it illogical as well.”

“My horse was named Phaethon, after one of the two immortal steeds of Eos, goddess of the dawn. She was a palomino, one of a long line bred by my…family.” Diana leaned forward to press a kiss to Brooks’s forehead. “I miss her.”

“What happened to her?”

“I don’t know,” Diana admitted. “That was many years ago.”

“This was in Themyscira?”

Diana was not surprised that the boy knew her story, though she wasn’t sure whether he’d learned it from Bruce or from the news reports about her. Most of the world had learned about her origins in some way. There was often the expectation that because the League had volunteered to protect Earth that its citizens had some claim on their stories. Most of their members had secret identities, and Diana’s openness about her origins had caused them to latch onto her as a main source of information.

“It was,” Diana said.

The boy huffed. “You should have stolen her. Phaethon. Animals know when they’ve been abandoned. You should have taken her with you.”

“If only I could have,” Diana said. “I hope she understood that my absence was not a reflection on her. I’m sure my sisters took good care of her. She was one of our strongest steeds—she would not have gone unused or unappreciated.”

“Still,” Damian said. “If I had a horse, no one could make me leave it behind.”

Diana had once thought the same. She stroked Brooks’s nose when the horse pressed forward for another bite of the apple. “You’re very noble,” she said.

“I don’t have a horse, though,” he continued. “Father does not believe we have enough land by the Manor to sustain one. We disagree on that matter.”

“I imagine that is a difficult situation,” Diana said.

Damian sighed. “He says I need to think about the horse’s own good, but does he not realize that I would take excellent care of it? There are many horses that need a home. We have resources that most do not.”

Diana agreed with the boy, but knew better than to step in the path of Bruce’s parenting. Despite the boy’s complaints, there was respect and affection tucked under the layers of frustration in his voice. (It was similar to his father’s method of communicating, so Diana had a sharp ear for it.) She would not strength the foundations of any unrest between them. “Do you have any other pets?” she asked.

“A dog, Titus, and a cat, Alfred,” Damian recited. “And Bat-Cow.”

Diana was grateful for the stall blocking Damian’s view of her, because she was not able to repress her smile. “That sounds like a fine group,” she told him solemnly.

“Hey, Damian!” The barn doors opened, revealing Stephanie. She blinked at in the dim lighting of the barn for a moment, adjusting more quickly than most could have. “And there you are, Diana! We’re starting the football game. Are you playing? Is Damian here?”

“ _Tt_ , I’m here. Lower your voice,” Damian said, emerging from the stall. Diana watched him slip one final apple to Dunn in an impressive sleight-of-hand. “You’ll scare the animals.”

Stephanie stuck out her tongue at him, and the boy mirrored the gesture.

“I would love to play football,” Diana said, giving Brooks a final pat.

 

#

 

Football outside the professional leagues was apparently very different from the sport Diana had watched with John and Shayera, and the Robin version of that spinoff was more different still. She listened attentively as Stephanie ran through the rules, with regular interruptions from Dick and Tim. They’d agreed on a full-tackle system, leaving it up to the players to be sure not to leave any permanent injuries.

When Jonathan, acting as referee while Martha, Bruce, Clark, and Alfred took advantage of the absent children to talk in the kitchen, whistled to start the game, Diana quickly learned that she would not need to hold back much.

She had sparred with Bruce in the past, and had always needed every inch of her strength and strategy to match his sheer cunning, though his mortal body was no physical match for hers. His children were much the same. When she moved to tackle Cass, she would find that the ball had already been slipped into Damian’s waiting hands, and then sprinted across the field.

The teams had been carefully crafted to split key pairs: Dick and Damian, Stephanie and Cass, and Stephanie and Tim. Diana had ended up on a team with Stephanie and Dick, which she had thought to be the stronger until the match had begun.

Their opponents were wily and bold, and Diana felt the challenge of the game thrum through her blood. Though she was careful not to let her super-strength slip and harm any of the children, she did not treat them gently either. When she gently but firmly tackled Damian, she could feel the boy twist in her arms to make his landing as easy as possible. When she leapt to intercept a ball and found herself nearly colliding with Tim to grab it, he ducked out of her way as easily as she moved out of his. Somehow, in the scuffle, he emerged with the ball.

Good-natured Dick treated the game like a combination bonding activity and bloodsport, alternately telling his opponents they’d made a smart play and then cheerfully calling for their entrails.

Once Diana got the ball, she was nearly unstoppable until she reached her end zone, so the opposing team made it their goal to keep it far from her reach. She felt as though she were standing in the middle of a lake, attempting to catch a slippery frog as it ducked and weaved out of her grasp.

After more than an hour, Diana wiped her brow and bowed out of the game.

“Come on! We’ve got them on the ropes,” Dick said, entirely untruthfully. The score, though heavily debated, was somewhere in the range of 10 to 6 in the other team’s favor.

Diana waved a hand. “I haven’t spoken to Clark nearly enough today. I should go visit with him.”

Damian laughed at Dick. “Afraid that without the Amazon you’ll lose any chance of scoring?

Dick’s grin was vicious. “You wish. See you later, Diana,” he added, already preparing the next play.

Diana trotted off the makeshift field and approached the house. She hadn’t noticed in the dusk light and in the heat of the game, but they’d acquired a spectator at some point.

Leaning on one of the front porch rails, a glowing cigarette in his hand, was another dark-haired boy. Though close to Dick in age, his physique was closer to Clark and Bruce, bulky and solid. A shock of white hair fell over his eyes, which watched her closely as she walked up the steps.

“You must be Jason,” Diana said.

“Did my reputation precede me? Or just process of elimination?” The young man’s voice was deep and gravelly.

“The latter,” Diana admitted.

“Batman didn’t give you dossiers on all of us to prepare you?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow.

Diana joined him at the railing. “You thought he might? He keeps you all tucked close to his chest. He wouldn’t hand away any secrets. Tim has already teased me for not checking the Google, but I have to admit such methods still do not occur to me. If there was something I should have known, Bruce would have warned me.”

Jason scoffed. “He likes throwing people in the deep end and seeing if they can swim.”

“That too,” Diana said.

“You’re not going to complain about the smoke? Don’t you have super-senses?” Jason asked, blowing a cloud away from the porch. “Clark gave me a look earlier, but he’s too polite to call someone else on being impolite. It’s a common flaw.”

“I live in Paris,” she reminded him. “If I was sensitive to smoke, I would have run to the country long ago.”

“Fair point,” he said. “So, are you and my old man hooking up yet, or is this whole holiday thing part of the trial run?”

“I… I, uh…” Diana blinked rapidly. Was that a _blush_ she felt heating her cheeks? She hadn’t blushed over a lover since her younger days, when she had been the sole teen on an island full of fierce women each more beautiful and poised than the last. She didn’t think she had ever blushed over a man.

And yet.

She had respected Batman as a teammate for years, and had long enjoyed Bruce’s friendship. His trust was elusive, and it was heartening that she had earned it. He was dry and clever, and she enjoyed sparring with him verbally as much as she did physically.

Of course she had noticed his broad shoulders and the bright blue eyes so often hidden by his cowl’s lenses. She had bedded many during her time in the world of men, but none quite as compelling as Bruce Wayne.

Jason cackled. “That’s the same face he made.”

“You asked Bruce this?” Diana asked, wondering if it would be improper to demand a full recounting of Bruce’s reaction.

“Someone has to give B shit. The rest of you go too easy on him,” Jason said, still grinning.

“That, I would argue, is untrue,” Diana said. “I much enjoy giving him ‘shit.’ He needs some teasing.”

Jason winked. “I knew I’d like you.”

“Why don’t you go play football with your siblings?” Diana asked.

Her attempt to change the subject cooled Jason’s joy. “Eh, I don’t need to play games with them. It was a blessing I got this invite in the first place. Tim and Damian would rather see my head on a pike.”

“Is that not the point of these skirmishes? To find an outlet for aggressions in a non-lethal manner? We had similar sport on Themyscira. When the other warriors annoyed me, I would take great pleasure in leaving them with bruises that lasted weeks.” Jason raised his eyebrows, considering that. “Their teams are unbalanced now, with my absence. Stephanie and Dick will appreciate your help.”  

“Eh, you had me at the reminder that I’d get the chance to plow Damian into the dust with no one getting mad at me,” Jason said. He flicked his cigarette off the porch—Diana watched it land casually in a bird bath—and took the steps two at a time. “Hey, losers!” he called, voice booming. “I’m playing!”

 

#

 

Dinner was a lavish affair. Not in cost—the ingredients were canned when they weren’t local, and everything was served in mismatched dishes—but in effort. Though the food was simple, the sheer amount and variety reminded Diana of the feasts on holidays back home.

There were some dishes that she recognized from her cursory exposure to Thanksgiving—turkey, potatoes, and green beans, along with small ramikins of gravy scattered across the table. Then, there were the other dishes. There was a small bowl of cucumber and tomato, which seemed to miss the rest of the table’s theme of richness. One bowl of rice was plain, while another was stuffed with nuts and pomengranate seeds. One container was filled with an orange mash, but the top was covered in pecans and _marshmallows_.

“Now, I know we have a variety of religious affiliations at the table,” Martha said once everyone had settled down. Bruce had already forced two of his children to switch seats—Damian and Cass—because Jason and Damian had been bickering. “I’ll be saying a prayer for Jonathan, Clark, and myself. Feel free to bow your head for it, say one of your own, or…do whatever makes you comfortable.”

Diana hadn’t spent the last few years in Paris without wandering into a few church services—the churches in the city were among the world’s most beautiful, and they were best appreciated while filled with gospel song—so she knew how to bow her head and respect the Kents’ tradition. As Martha spoke, thanking her God for the meal and for having the family together, there was a quiet muttering at Diana’s elbow where Damian had been relocated. The language was unfamiliar, but the cadence was practiced and solemn. The others were silent, though from the swallowed laugh down the table, Diana did not think all the siblings were participating in the prayer.

“Amen,” Martha said, and the table exploded with hands reaching for the various dishes.

Diana snatched the orange-marshmallow dish first, determined to try it. She had eaten marshmallows before, but never as part of a real meal. She’d gone camping with Clark once, when they’d both needed time away from everything else in the world. He’s introduced her to the idea of a campfire s’more, and together they’d eaten an entire pack of jumbo marshmallows. Without bothering to taste-test it, she piled her plate high with the dish on faith, and then passed it to an eager Stephanie before grabbing the next plate of vegetables.

Once her plate was piled high, Diana tried the marshmallow concoction. The flavor was unexpected, and it took multiple bites for her to identify to the orange mash. “Sweet potatoes?” she confirmed with Stephanie, who was halfway through a pile of gravy-covered turkey.

The girl nodded. “It’s a classic! You’ve never had it before?”

“No, and I’ll be having strong words with all of the friends who withheld this from me for so long,” Diana said, and ate another bite.

“If you like that, be sure to try that salad,” Stephanie suggested, pointing with a full fork. “It has candied pecans in it.”

Across the table, without turning from his conversation with Jonathan, Bruce slid the bowl of spinach closer to Diana. Even when it didn’t seem like it, he was always paying attention.

Diana kept an eye on him over dinner, noticing that he was the same with the rest of the table. He noticed arguments escalating between his children before anyone else, quelling it with a meaningful look or a distracting comment. When he noticed that Jonathan was getting low on wine, he topped off his glass smoothly. When he noticed Tim reaching for said wine, he moved the bottle across the table, where it was snatched up by Jason.

Everyone ate until they were stuffed, and then they all found more room for the pies Alfred had brought from Gotham. Diana picked one made from blackberries, which gave the pie some tartness she cut with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. At first, Diana thought Alfred had brought too many, but Clark had four helpings. Assuming Alfred was planning on leaving the desserts behind with the Kents, Diana was sure they’d be gone by Saturday.

Cass, Stephanie, and Tim left the table first, thanking the Kents politely and then scampering back outside. Jason followed shortly after, heading in the opposite direction. Diana lingered as the table slowly emptied, only standing when Martha began cleaning. She forced Clark to help, but Bruce disappeared with Alfred before she could corral him in as well.

“That was a lovely meal,” Diana told Martha as she set another stack of plates beside the sink. Between her and Clark, they had been able to carry most of the platters in one journey.

“It’s good to have the house full,” Martha said. “You’ll have to come back again soon, Diana.”

“I will,” she agreed.

After they’d finished cleaning up, Clark took Diana on a quick tour of the farm. The Waynes had already been shown around, since they’d all visited before. Diana appreciated the chance to stretch after such a large meal, though they moved at a lazy pace.

“It’s hard to imagine this farm being able to contain a young alien with your powers,” Diana admitted as they walked.

He stepped up into the air like he was walking on an invisible stair, and then led her to float twenty feet into the air. She followed, appreciating the moonlit view of the farm. He pointed to a divot in the field beside the barn. “A casualty of my younger days. I was trying to help repair a trailer when I was around eleven. I was always strong, but I had trouble controlling it even then. I was startled and ended up throwing the whole thing across the yard. It left a dent they still haven’t been able to get back to normal.”

“How did they explain it away?”

“The Kent farm was notorious for freak machinery accidents,” Clark said. They turned in midair so he could point at the closest side of the house. “When my heat-vision appeared, I burned off that corner of the roof,” he continued. “That was harder to explain away. I think Ma came up with some lie about a live wire cutting through it. At that point, before most powered people were out to the world, the repairmen didn’t have a reason to be suspicious. Today, I’d have had more trouble.”

Diana shook her head. “Your parents are saints, Clark.”

He shrugged. “They are. But they’re also just my parents,” he said.

“They seem really proud of you,” she told him. “You should come home more often.”

“Don’t let Ma fool you. I come home for dinner at least twice a month. To hear her, you’d think it was twice a year.” He glanced over at her. “You don’t need to wait for me to come visit. Ma and Pa would host you with or without me. Ma already told me how much she likes you, and she hates the idea of you alone in Paris. Besides, she loves cooking for guests.”

“They’re both very generous,” Diana said. She kept her eyes on the house, but Clark was sure to notice the dampness of her eyes.

 

#

 

Diana had slept in many uncomfortable situations: battlefields still in full swing in the dark of the night, noisy hostels packed with other travelers, plastic chairs beside hospital beds. Most of the time, she could fall asleep anywhere. She was a well-trained warrior—she knew the importance of rest, and could force her body to succumb when needed.

Her sleep was often worse when she was somewhere safe and secure. There was no need to sleep, no emergency she would need to wake and handle. Instead, there was just the quiet that would last the full night. Just as shock tended not to hit until after one was out of danger, Diana’s thoughts waited until she was safe to haunt her.

Regret was a useless emotion, but she knew that no logic could make it disappear. Tonight, it was not the latest disaster she regretted, but a time long, long ago.

Did her mother ever think of her? Did her sisters mourn her in the night, as she mourned them? She thought they must, even if they disapproved of her decisions. But she would never know for sure. An exile from Themyscira was forever.

After an hour of listening to Cass and Stephanie breathe quietly in their sleep, Diana stood up silently and left the room. The entire house was a minefield of sleeping people not to disturb, but Diana could be quiet when she wanted. She hovered a few inches off the ground to avoid the Kents’ various creaky floorboards and slipped out the front door. She landed on the warped wood of the porch and settled on the weatherworn bench hanging from the ceiling. The cushion that stretched across its length had been bleached in the sun, and was even more faded in the moonlight. It was comfortable, though, and she leaned back so that the chains rocked slightly.

It was unsurprising that her family was on her mind tonight. Seeing the Kents and Waynes (Diana wasn’t sure if all of Bruce’s kids had his last name, but they were clearly his children either way) made it obvious to Diana that she had been neglecting her life outside her work. She had friends in Paris, but none that were closer to her than any member of the League.

And it was turning out that she didn’t even know her best friends in the League as well as she thought she did.

The house door opened. Speak of the Devil.

Bruce silently stepped onto the porch. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a sweatshirt that had clearly been snatched from Clark’s closet, and his hair was slightly rumpled. Diana had seen him look more composed in the middle of a week-long battle. She had the feeling she was looking behind his armor for the first time.  

He didn’t seem surprised to see her. He nodded in greeting, and sat on the bench beside her. As always, he moved with complete awareness of his body—the chains overhead didn’t even rattle as his weight settled on the old bench.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

Since that much was obvious, Diana thought that was Bruce’s way to opening a conversation. “No. You either?”

“Clark snores.”

“He does not,” Diana said. “I’ve slept with him, too, remember?” When they were stranded on an alien planet, Clark made the best living furnace of the League.

“It’s subsonic, but it shakes the bed,” Bruce told her.

“I think you’re lying,” Diana said, but she wasn’t sure. With their lives, anything was possible, and Bruce was difficult to read.

“Stephanie talks in her sleep,” Bruce said.

Diana shook her head. “It was cute. It wouldn’t keep me awake.”

“Something else, then?”

Diana looked out over the moonlit fields surrounding the Kents’ isolated barn. It was peaceful here, though not silent. Despite the harsh bite in the late November air, there were still animals shuffling through the fields and forests. “I enjoyed meeting your family,” she said. It wasn’t the subject change it might have seemed.

“I’m glad. They seemed to mostly behave themselves today,” Bruce said. “They were all excited to meet you.”

“Yes, I heard something about a training regime based on my fighting style?”

Bruce coughed. “I try to make sure their training is well-rounded.”

Diana shot him a bright grin. “You could have just asked me to come give a demonstration. You know I’m always open to training others. After playing football with them, I’d love a chance to spar with them all.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“I think they could handle it.”

“I was talking about for you.”

She laughed. “If they’re anything like their father, you’re probably right. That’s what makes it fun, though.” She shrugged. “It’s a shame I haven’t seen them in the field.”

“For now, Gotham needs them,” he said.

“You’re sure you’re not just keeping them safe from the bad influence of your teammates?” Diana asked, looking back out over the farm. She didn’t give him the chance to answer. She wasn’t afraid of the truth—she couldn’t be, and still be Wonder Woman—but she thought she deserved a break for the night. “You’re a good father. I should have guessed.”

“I make a lot of mistakes,” Bruce said, a thread of tension in his voice.

“Everyone does,” Diana said. “From the day I met you, I knew you were always hiding secrets. It took me longer than I would have liked for me to realize that most of those secrets were simply…your heart. I appreciate you giving me the chance to see some of it today.” She shook her head. “Before I learned about your family, would you believe that I thought I knew you the best out of anyone? Perhaps I was simply projecting. You knew everything about me within the first few days—I assumed I knew you as well.”

“Diana,” Bruce said, drawing her attention from the fields. His eyes were dark and serious. “Even if you haven’t known the details, you’ve always been able to see to the heart of me.”

He was sitting close enough that Diana could feel the heat from his body. She’d seen him as Batman and she’d seen him in tuxedos as Bruce Wayne, but she’d never seen him looking quite as attractive as he did late at night after Thanksgiving, wearing soft, casual clothes.

“Have I?” she murmured, leaning closer.

“You have,” he agreed. For once, instead of stepping away and putting distance between them, it seemed like he was leaning toward her as well.

“Father?”

They both pulled back as Damian stepped through the door. Like Bruce, he was rumpled, and he was wearing an oversized flannel shirt over a pair of sweatpants. He rubbed at his eyes and glowered at Bruce and Diana. “You’re both out here,” he said, stating the obvious. “You should be asleep,” he added to Diana.

She shrugged, amused. Maybe she hadn’t known Bruce-the-father for long, but she knew enough to trust that the family didn’t follow Damian’s every command as much as the boy seemed to expect. Wherever he’d gotten his imperiousness, it wasn’t from his father.

“Is everything all right?” Bruce asked.  

“Drake keeps rolling around and keeping me awake,” Damian complained. Despite his formal language, he was clearly exhausted. He seemed younger than he had at dinner or in the barn. All it took was for Bruce to open his arms for Damian to climb onto his lap on the bench. He gave Diana a suspicious look, but settled against his father’s chest.

“Do you want to sleep on my floor instead?” Bruce asked.

Damian nodded. “I went in there, but you weren’t there. Kent has taken over the whole bed, just so you know.”

“I’ll make him move,” Bruce said, which sounded more ominous than it should have. He stood up, taking Damian with him easily. He looked down at Diana, a small smile on his lips. “I should take Damian to bed.”

“I’ll head back to sleep soon as well,” Diana assured him. She gave him a sly smile. “We’ll pick up our conversation another time.”

Bruce, to her utter surprise and delight, winked at her. “I look forward to it.”

Once they were gone, Diana leaned back on the porch swing and hummed to herself. Maybe she needed to ask Bruce out for drinks over the weekend. She was eager for the rest of their talk, and she needed to work fast if she was going to secure an invitation to Gotham for Christmas.

After all, if it was anything like Thanksgiving at the Kents, she wouldn’t want to miss it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](http://starknjarvis27.tumblr.com/)!


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